Wild Onions & Fire Walks

Last night, the Toltec Center of Creative Intent offered a public fire walk in Austin. I didn't go because I spent my day having my own private fire walk at home....

You see, there's this BIG patch of wild onions growing in my backyard and in the past few years, they've begun to take over. They started to pop up everywhere. Have you ever tried to pick one? Their roots and onion bulbs rest 5-8 inches below the surface of the ground, while their stems and leaves sprout up to heights of 12+ inches above the ground. They are a challenge to retrieve, especially without leaving one of the "baby bulbs" behind to reproduce with wild abandon. Their roots cling to the soil like a leech on the skin. Their stems are hearty, yet their roots are even heartier; so when you tug on what seems to be a thick, solid stem, it breaks off at the bulb, out-muscled by the strength of the roots. Hmmm... a nice survival trick of nature.

So, I didn't arise yesterday morning with any desire or plan to pull up all those wild onions; I wanted to spend the day writing. Here's what happened: One moment I was sitting at the kitchen table, warm and dry, enjoying the birds and a hot cup of coffee; the next moment I found myself outside in the soft, cool rain, dressed in my "dirty jobs" garb, wheelbarrow and tools by my side, contemplating the wild onions. It was like my life movie skipped a frame or two, or fast-forwarded itself. What a strange sensation...just like a fire walk: You don't think about what's happening, you feel it instead; you feel the movement, and you go!

Anyway, I started with the smaller, rogue patches of wild onions scattered about the yard (and a few easy-to-retrieve bullnettle weeds) with our new handy-dandy weed-remover tool-thingy. I wanted to feel some success and gain some confidence before tackling the BIG onion patch. The tool worked great on the bullnettle; it didn't TOUCH the onions.

"Hmmm. Now what? I know: try the hand shovel." OK - that worked great on the smaller onions; not so great on the larger ones. In fact, about 25 minutes later, I broke the handle off the hand shovel trying to prey one of the onion's roots out of the ground. "Damn. That's no good." I stopped, took a breath, and contemplated my task again. "Damn, that's a lot of onions! This could take all day. I'm not sure I have the stamina to get it all done. What am I missing here? What needs to happen next?" And so, my own personal fire walk began.

I clarified my intent: "I want to get these wild onions out of the yard. I want it to be as easy as possible. I want to finish the job today. I want to surprise my sweetie."

I asked: "What needs to happen next?" and then I felt into that question with my heart rather than thinking into it with my mind. "Ah - I need the wild onions to cooperate. How do I get their cooperation?"

I came up with a plan: "I know! I'll have a little talk with them. I'll tell them that this is not their ending; it's just a relocation and a transformation. I'll use them as compost for the veggie garden I want to build this fall. I'll let them know that they have little purpose where they are, and that I am creating a new, higher purpose for them as food for the new garden (just like I will be one day - my body returning to the garden of the Earth). I'll let them know that their whole family must relocate together." Then, I set up the tarp where they would rest until it was time to build the garden beneath it.

And so I began (or continued) the job. Every time I stuck my (now large, narrow-bladed, nearly tall as me) shovel into the dirt around one of the wild onion bunches, I said aloud with excitement and passion in my heart: "Food for the new garden!" I thanked the compliant ones with love, and I talked encouragingly to the resistant ones, lovingly and (as it got later, somewhat pleadingly) asking for their compliance too. I reminded them (and myself) that this was not an ending, but a transformation, and that it would be easier if they just surrendered to it. I offered that I, too, would go through my own transformation one day.

It worked! Five labor-filled hours later, the wild onions were all resting in their new home on the tarp, preparing for their new job, and marking the spot of the new veggie garden. My heart was happy and full at the thought of my success, the planned veggie garden, the open yard space, and my sweetie's surprise later.

Reflecting on my "dirty job" morning, I realized that I had just completed my own personal fire walk: I saw the task before me; I felt the block; I set my intent; I stepped into my heart; I listened; I held my intent fully in my being; I acted.... Beautiful! The job pushed me to my edge for certain, and physically, a bit beyond my edge. But the wild onions tamed themselves when I opened my heart in collaboration rather than defiance. It was a great lesson and a wonderful experience, well worth the shovel-stomping bruises on the bottoms of my feet that remind me of how good it feels to successfully "walk through the fire."

©2010 Cecilia L. Zúñiga. A Year To Live. All Rights Reserved. Reprints, copies or reproductions of any kind must be accompanied by copyright credit line.